A Lost Soul
by MarieCarro
Summary: Edward Masen is a normal 17-year-old boy with dreams of becoming a soldier, but when tragedy strikes his family, his entire life changes. Edward is introduced to the supernatural world he had no idea even existed, and he certainly doesn't want to live in it. Additional Summery Inside! First Completed in April 2011. Reposting began in May 2013. Additional Summery Inside!
1. Prologue, July 22nd 1916

_**This story was originally posted in March 2010. It was pulled by the author in 2013 because of too many errors. The story began reposting in May 2013!**_

**Additional Summery: _It was during the month of March in the year of 1918 that the first signs of the influenza was revealed to the public, although no one ever imagined the damages this historic event would have on the American people. _**

_**One citizen in particular faces an irrevocable change that cause a chain of events to unfold through the twentieth century. **__**The price was to give up his old life, but he would later gain more than he ever thought he would. **_

_**A Pre-Twilight Canon story about the life of Edward Cullen**_

**Special thanks to my pre-reader JeniK and Jasmine, and also my beta Chandrakanta**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N: **This story is about Edward's life pre-twilight. It will go through the major events in his life, like the influenza, his transformation, the additions of every family member, as well as other things that happens around the Cullens before they arrive in Forks.

It's based on facts that I've found on twilightsaga wikia, in the illustrated guide, and of course, the books.

In places where the facts are blurry, that's where I've made up my own plot/storyline. But dates and years should be almost exact.

So follow me and Edward through the 20th century!

I hope you'll enjoy! And welcome to:

**A LOST SOUL**

**BY**

**MARIECARRO**

**PROLOGUE: JULY 22****nd**** 1916**

Elizabeth Masen stood in the kitchen with a cup of tea in her hand, looking through the window at her son—who was chopping up wood for the stove—and tried to not let her mind wander to all of her worries, which concerned the fifteen year old boy.

Her son was the most important thing in her life, and he had been ever since she brought him home from the hospital, but she had often wondered if her love had been enough for him. He was a great young man, a gentleman that she took pride in having raised well, but she was afraid that his lack of fatherly affection would have a great impact on the person he would become.

For one thing, he did not seem too eager on actually having a family of his own one day. All he seemed to care about was becoming a soldier, and she knew that the only thing that kept him from talking about it all day was her dislike for his choice. And the fact that he was underage.

Elizabeth fervently hoped that the war would end before her son was old enough. She wouldn't really have anything against him joining the army; she just did not want him out in the war. She would worry too much.

"Mrs. Masen? Are you finished with your tea?" Mary, the housekeeper, brought Elizabeth out of her thoughts and she looked down at the cup of tea, which was now cold, before giving it to the younger woman.

"Yes, thank you, Mary." Her eyes wandered back to the boy in the backyard. He had grown quite a lot during the last year and he was now almost as tall as his father. Overall, he did look a lot like her husband, Edward Masen Sr.—except from the traits he got from her, which were her green eyes and bronze locks—and the resemblance had intensified as the boy grew older.

Now her son straightened his back and wiped the sweat off his forehead, before collecting the logs and piling them on the porch. He came in through the kitchen door and kissed her on the cheek.

"Would you like some lemonade, dear? Mary just made some," she said, taking his jacket from him and folding it over a chair.

"That would be wonderful, Mother. Thank you." He sat down in a chair next to the working bench, after washing his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair to get it out of his eyes. It was unbelievable how much he resembled his father when he did that.

Elizabeth put the cold glass of lemonade in front of her son and he gulped it down. It was a hot summer's day and chopping wood was a tiring task, but fortunately her son was a fit boy. "You should take a shower before dinner. Your father will be home any minute."

"Yes, Mother."

"Have you given his proposition any more thought?"

The young boy sighed lightly and was reluctant to meet his mother's eyes. He knew where this would go, and had he had a choice in the matter, he would have wanted to avoid the subject altogether.

"Mother, you know why I am not too eager. I don't dream of becoming a lawyer like Father."

"I know that, but it would bring in a steady income and it would make things easier the day that you find a nice girl that you want to—"

"Mother," he interrupted her and shook his head. "Why do you always bring this up? When I feel that I am ready, I will find a girl to settle down with, but it won't happen in a few years."

"But, Edward, you have to understand that I get worried. You have told me about your friends becoming more interested in girls, yet you don't show any interest whatsoever. When I was your age, I had already met your father."

"Yes, you were. But Father was not. He had already experienced what he wanted and achieved his dreams when he met you. I want that too." Elizabeth walked up to her son and stroked his hair lovingly. The boy leaned his head on his mother's chest and listened to her heartbeat. It had always calmed him down.

"I understand that, honey. I just wish your dreams were less complicated." She leaned away from him and put her hands around his face. "Now go wash up. Mary's putting the dinner on the table in twenty minutes."

Edward nodded and stood up, towering over his mother in a way that she had just recently gotten accustomed to. With slightly heavier steps than usual, he went upstairs to take that shower.

As he got dressed and combed his hair, he could hear how his father came home and greeted his mother. Just like every other day.

"Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes," his mother said from below. Her voice was accompanied by the clinking of ice in the glass of scotch she handed to his father.

"That sounds wonderful, love." His father's voice was laced with exhaustion. It must have been another heavy day at the office.

Edward sighed when he realized he would have to stay on his toes during dinner. The smallest flaw in his behavior could set his father's temper off in a second on nights like these.

He waited an extra two minutes before he descended the stairs and joined his parents in the lounge.

His father was stirring the ice cubes around in his glass, his eyes were closed and he was leaning back in one of the plush armchairs. His mother was sitting with her back very straight—a trait left after having worn a corset for most of her life, even though she wasn't wearing one anymore—on the sofa, reading a book.

The radio was tuned in on the news, and the speaker was just announcing how the British troops had failed in capturing Mametz Woods in France. Edward internally groaned at the failure, but instead of showing his disappointment, he greeted his father.

"Good evening, Father."

"Son," the older man replied without opening his eyes.

Elizabeth looked up from her book and smiled at her son. He smiled back weakly, feeling discouraged by the way he was greeted by his father. It was the same every day, but it still twisted around uncomfortably inside him every time.

Mary walked inside and announced that dinner was ready before disappearing back into the kitchen.

After the grace, his father announced that he had to go away for business during the weekend.

"I have to leave early on Friday and I will hopefully be home on the eve of Monday," he said, and Edward's stomach dropped.

"But, Father, what about my concert? You promised you would be there."

Edward Sr.'s hand froze on its way to the glass of wine, and he studied his son for a long moment. He did not want to admit that he had completely forgotten about his son's concert. His wife had spoken about it for weeks, stressing about how important it was for their son. He had promised to attend, but it would be impossible now. He simply could not postpone this business trip.

"I'm sorry, Son, but this came on so suddenly. I could not say no." He did not show how his son's disappointed expression affected him.

"Edward, please, there must be some way for you to attend. Can't you leave after the concert and come back on Tuesday instead?" his wife tried.

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not, love." He turned to his son. "I promise to be there for the next concert," he said and continued eating.

Edward just moved his food around on his plate and shrugged. "Okay."

That was the last time he ever trusted one of his father's promises.

**A/N: **This is the only chapter that's written in third person. The rest is written in first person, through Edward's perspective, which of course means, we'll be able to see into the others minds as well once he's a vampire :-)

I just wanted to establish what kind of relationship Edward had with his parents in this chapter.

I won't have an update schedule for this story…I will update when I feel that the chapter is finished and worthy of being read by you ;-P

If you've got any questions, don't hesitate to contact me :-)


	2. Chapter 1, March 12th 1918

**A/N: **Oh My God! I'm actually doing this! I've actually begun posting this story for real :-D

Now, I hope you're not going to be too impatient because the updating for this story is going to be very slow. I really want to do this story justice, and so, I'm taking my time with each chapter.

And, the chapter goes through three people before it comes back to me for final editing :-)

I really hope you'll enjoy my interpretation of Edward's life in the early twentieth century.

But I won't keep you here any longer ;-)

**Special thanks to my pre-reader JeniK and Jasmine, and also my beta Chandrakanta**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 1: MARCH 12****TH**** 1918**

My alarm woke me up, and I groaned in protest as my hand fumbled around on my nightstand to locate the offending clock and switch it off. When I couldn't find it, I raised my head from the softness of my pillow and opened one eye tiredly.

The clock read the ungodly hour of 7:15 AM, and I once again groaned when I realized that I had to get up if I wanted to ride with my father to school. He always left for work at exactly eight, and if I wasn't ready by then, he would go without me. It wouldn't exactly be the first time.

Mother had protested his actions several times, but he simply replied with a, "The boy needs to learn to be on time," and effectively ended the conversation.

I gingerly sat up and stretched. I yawned and blinked several times to get the sleep out of my eyes.

A knock made me turn my attention to my door.

"Edward, it's time to get up. Mary has the breakfast on the table," my mother's voice said softly through the door.

"I'll join you in a minute, Mother," I said, and heard Mother's steps fade as they descended the stairs.

I sat still for a minute as I tried to process the peculiar dream I'd had while asleep. I couldn't remember what it had been about, only that it had made me uneasy and left me with a feeling of foreboding, as if something was about to happen that would change everything.

I shook my head at my own ridiculousness. I sounded like one of those fortune tellers that tricked people for their money at carnivals.

I let out another yawn before rising from my bed. I dressed in a robe and, with my school uniform underneath my arm, made my way to the bathroom to take a shower. I hoped the warm water would help shake off the remains of my dream.

Once dressed and presentable, I joined my parents in the dining room where Mary had prepared the breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausages, and biscuits.

"Good morning, Sweetie," Mother greeted me with her green eyes sparkling, as they always did when she looked at me.

"Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Father."

Father grunted behind the newspaper, and I saw Mother sigh softly while looking at him with sad eyes.

I didn't react to his behavior toward me anymore. I would have only been shocked had he actually given me the honor to look at me when he "greeted" me.

I had barely sat down when Mary offered me a cup of coffee.

"Here you go, Mr. Masen," she said with a smile.

"Thank you, Mary," I replied, and smiled back. Mary blushed when my eyes met hers, and I suppressed a chuckle. It wasn't a secret that Mary had taken a fancy to me. She was a year older and had been with my family for the last five years. She was a cute girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, but she was also our maid. A relationship between us would never have worked, and it would hardly have been appropriate either.

Mother softly cleared her throat to gain my attention. "Mr. Abernathy telephoned before. I'm afraid he had to cancel your piano lesson this afternoon."

I shrugged. "That's fine by me. The man has told me on several occasions there's no more he can teach me anyway." I couldn't stop the smug feeling that arose inside of me. "I just have to polish up on a few pieces that I plan to play during the graduation concert, but they're almost perfect."

"Edward, don't get arrogant," Mother reprimanded me with a smile. "It will one day be your downfall."

"I apologize for that, Mother," I said with my own smile.

Father made a sound from behind the paper and both of us turned our attention to him.

"Is something wrong, dear?" Mother asked.

It took a few seconds for Father to realize that she was talking to him. Apparently, the sound he made was involuntary and had nothing to do with our conversation.

"Oh no, love, nothing of importance. There have just been an unusually high number of sick soldiers in Fort Riley, Kansas. Over a hundred men fell sick with the same symptoms last night. It's just a small paragraph in the paper, but I thought it sounded peculiar."

"It sure does, but the conditions for the soldiers aren't the best either." She gave me a pointed look, and I rolled my eyes. Whenever she got the chance, she would subtly voice her opinion about my choice with joining the army as soon as I turned eighteen.

I could never get her to understand why the pull was so strong. It was my duty, as an American citizen, and I had to do what I could to help protect my country.

I didn't comment. I remained silent and finished my breakfast.

At 7:55, Father rose from his chair and gave Mother a kiss on the cheek. He didn't say anything to me. He just left the room with me following. It was the same every morning after all, and it wasn't the first time I wished I could buy my own motorcar so that I wouldn't have to spend the tortuous twenty minutes in the close proximity of my father while he drove me to school. Those minutes were always spent in silence and made me feel incredibly uncomfortable.

It was no different today.

When my school came into view, I released the breath I'd subconsciously been holding. I would soon be free.

I was just about to exit the car when Father cleared his throat. Shocked that he was obviously going to talk to me, I turned to him with wide eyes.

"I will come and pick you up at three-thirty. I want you to join me for the rest of the night at the office. You need to learn the business if you're going to work there eventually."

I blinked a few times, and then mutely nodded. It was the most my father has said directly to me in months.

A month ago, I finally agreed to work alongside my father a few afternoons a week at his office. It pleased my mother, and Father was glad his own son would be able to take over the practice in a few years. It wasn't my dream to become a lawyer, but I figured I could do it until I knew what it was that I wanted to do in the future.

Father drove off without another word once I was out of the car, and I followed him with my gaze until he turned a corner. I couldn't understand why Father treated me the way he did. It was like he was emotionally detached whenever he had to do anything that concerned me.

I knew that it wasn't because he didn't love me. Mother had told me that he'd confessed to her on occasion that he just didn't know how to show it. But even though I knew he loved me, it would be appreciated to actually have it confirmed straightly from him.

I wondered if I would ever get to hear him tell me that he loved me.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" One of my best friends, Lewis Rogers, came up behind me and shoved my shoulder to get me out of my "trance."

Lewis was from England, and had moved here only a few years back when his father got employment at Cook County Hospital.

"Nothing," I said, and absentmindedly rubbed the spot he'd shoved me on. My friend sometimes had a hard time determining how much strength he used. He was a big guy, and also a star player in the school's minor league baseball team.

"Then turn that frown around. An upside down smile won't give you any ladies."

"Please, enlighten me, oh Great One. How will I get ladies then? I thought girls loved the brooding kind," I said sarcastically. Lewis knew very well that I had no interest in girls, although it didn't mean he understood it. He thought I was strange.

He wasn't the only one.

"Oh God, no! Do not take advice from that dumb-bell. His knowledge of girls would fit inside a teaspoon." We turned around to see Evelyn Lawrence, my other best friend, standing right behind us.

Lewis placed a hand over his heart and looked insulted. "Why, Miss Lawrence, you wound my feelings. What did I do to deserve your cruel mocking?"

I rolled my eyes at my friends and began walking toward the main building.

"You've done just enough," Evelyn said and fell into stride beside me. "And did I hear right? Is the legendary Edward Masen going to hand out the key to his chastity belt to a girl?"

It had always shocked me that Evelyn spoke so crudely when it came to sexual actions. Evelyn was the ultimate lady otherwise, but she had tendencies to let her tongue wander.

I was about to call her out on it, but Lewis beat me to the punch. "You shouldn't speak like that, Evelyn. It's not very attractive for a young woman to speak so crudely toward a man about his intimate business."

She was just about to protest, probably to point out that Lewis was about to do the same, when she spotted one of our teachers looking at us disapprovingly. We had not noticed that the bell had rung during our conversation, and we were now running late.

"I'll see you at lunch," she said instead and walked with a straight back toward the girls' classroom. Our school was a mixed one, but our morning classes were separated by gender. It was Music for girls, and Calligraphy for boys.

Lewis hated Calligraphy. He said he could never get those "darn S's" right. They always looked uneven and crooked.

"Did you hear about those soldiers in Kansas?" I asked once we were out from the scrutiny of our stern teacher.

"No, was it in the Tribune?"

"Just a small paragraph in the back. Apparently, over a hundred men fell sick last night. What do you think it could be?"

Lewis shrugged. "I don't know. Could be anything, I guess. They're not exactly living in luxury out there."

We left it at that when we entered the classroom, and I did not think of it again until much later.

* * *

**A/N: **Well…thoughts? And also, I don't know if you did in the prologue, but pay attention to the dates in the beginning of every chapter. It will pretty much reveal what will happen in the chapter.


	3. Chapter 2, May 7th - May 10th 1918

**A/N: **It's been awhile but I hope you haven't lost interest in this story :-) I told you from the beginning that it would be a slow process :-)

Anyway, here's chapter 2!

I hope you'll enjoy :-D

**Special thanks to my pre-reader JeniK and Jasmine, and also my beta Chandrakanta**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 2 MAY 7****TH**** – MAY 10****TH**** 1918**

"_Oh my! Mrs. Masen! Help!"_

I sat up straight in my bed, wide awake after Mary's screams. My heart was pounding in my chest as I flew out of bed and put on my clothes—the same ones as last night—and ran downstairs, two steps at a time. What could possibly have Mary scream at the top of her lungs for my mother? It had to be serious. She sounded terrified.

My mother and I entered the dining room at the same time and what we saw made my heart jump up in my throat.

Father was lying on the floor, on his side, with a sheen of sweat covering his forehead. He was unconscious, his face was ghostly pale, and his breathing was shallow.

"Edward?!" Mother exclaimed and fell on her knees next to his body. She placed a hand on his forehead but quickly retracted it. "Mary, get me a cool cloth. He's got a fever." She turned to me where I was frozen on the spot. I was clearly in shock and had no idea what to do. "Edward, call for an ambulance. We need to get your father to the hospital."

I didn't move. I couldn't process what was happening. What was wrong with Father?

"Edward, _please!_" My eyes snapped from Father's unconscious face to my mother's panicked eyes, and I finally felt myself being able to move. I hurried out into the kitchen to the telephone.

"_Operator. How may I help you?"_ a woman answered after a few very long seconds.

"Cook County Hospital on West Harrison Street, thank you," I said with a trembling voice. It was a wonder the woman could even hear what I said.

"_One moment, please."_ I heard the clicking to indicate that she was transferring my call and then a low ringing tone.

"_Cook County Hospital. How may I help you?"_ a nurse answered.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound escaped me. It was as if the shock had made me a mute. I couldn't comprehend what was happening. Father was never sick. He hadn't been sick once since I was born.

"_Hello?"_

"Yes," I said when I finally found my voice again. "I need an ambulance sent immediately to West Thorndale Avenue in Norwood Park. My father has a fever and is unconscious. I don't know what to do." My voice was monotone and emotionless. It must be the shock.

"_I'll send the ambulance immediately. Make sure his airways are cleared and keep him cool in the best way you can. We'll give him the help he needs once he gets here."_

"Thank you," I said and hung up the phone. Not wanting my mother to handle the stress all by herself, I hurried back into the dining room. She had succeeded in pulling Father's body up so that he was leaning against her. She kept dabbing his forehead with a damp kitchen towel.

When she heard me come back, she looked up with tearful eyes.

"The ambulance is on its way. The nurse said we should keep his airways cleared."

She nodded and gently laid Father back down on the floor. From what I'd been taught in school, I knew that he needed to be on his side so that he didn't accidentally swallow his tongue, and his chin needed to be parallel to the floor.

After placing him in the correct position, Mother stroked his pale face lovingly. I saw how a few tears escaped her and landed on Father's cheek. I believe I even heard her pray.

"Please, _please_, God, don't take him from me."

**{=ALS=}**

The hospital was bustling with life, but I barely registered that. I felt numb looking at my father's face as he lay in the hospital bed.

He looked so vulnerable, not at all the way I was used to seeing him. My father was a man whom you knew to respect just by looking at him. He had an aura around him, which was what had made him into such a successful lawyer.

He also appeared much older than his forty years when he was tucked so tightly into the sheets.

Mother was sitting on a stool next to the bed and I stood behind her with my hands on her shoulders to ground her, but also to support myself. Everything had come on so suddenly and neither of us really knew how to grasp it.

One of the doctors said Father must have caught some type of bacteria on one of his business trips, but he wasn't the only one that had been brought to the hospital with the same symptoms: unconsciousness, high blood-pressure, fever, and sweats. There was at least five other patients in this room alone, but they were all older, at least over the age of fifty-five.

At first, we'd asked for a private room, but were quickly informed that no private rooms were available. They were all used as semi-privates.

Mother and I turned when the sound of someone clearing their throat caught our attention.

A very young blonde man stood by the end of Father's bed. Although he was dressed in a doctor's clothes, I had my doubts. The man couldn't have been many years older than me, and he had the strangest eye color I'd ever seen on a person, a bright gold color that reminded me of a topaz gemstone.

"Mrs. Masen?" he asked in a smooth, musical voice that almost hypnotized me. I narrowed my eyes. There was something different about this man.

Mother nodded in confirmation.

"I am Dr. Carlisle Cullen and I'll be the one to care for your husband while he's here. I just wanted to formerly introduce myself."

Mother smiled. She couldn't be impolite, even if her life depended on it. "It's a pleasure to meet you. This is my son, Edward." She gestured to me and Dr. Cullen turned his strange eyes to me.

"Nice to meet you, Edward, although I'm sorry it's under these circumstances." He offered me his hand and I took it in mine to shake. I startled a bit at the coldness of his hand, and his eyes flashed to mine. When our gazes met, I could see that he knew that I knew he was different. I didn't comment on it, but it was an understanding between us.

I couldn't, however, shake the feeling that Dr. Cullen was above the ordinary. He was different in every sense of the word.

"So, Dr. Cullen," Mother said. "What is the matter with my husband? Will he be okay?"

He glanced at me to get my confirmation that it was okay to tell the truth or if he should give the milder version. I nodded for him to continue.

"I'm afraid that it doesn't look good. Mr. Masen has developed a serious case of pneumonia and his lungs are filled with fluid. Simple breathing is an extreme difficulty for him, and he's probably in a lot of pain."

I frowned. "Isn't there anything you can do for him? Give him some medicine or something?"

Dr. Cullen sighed. "We can ease his pain by draining some of the fluid in his lungs. It will make him more comfortable, but he won't get better by it." He made a grimace, which told me he wished there was more he could do.

"I sense there is more," Mother said with a small, trembling voice.

Dr. Cullen hesitated, but then continued. "Mrs. Masen, your husband is very weak and very ill. If he doesn't regain consciousness within the next sixteen hours, I think both of you need to accept the increasing possibility that he won't survive."

A tortured whimper escaped Mother and she clasped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears, which overflowed and ran down her cheeks. I immediately crouched down and wound my arms around her small frame. Her entire body shook with sobs and I did my best to comfort her even though I was hurting just as much as she.

"Oh, Edward, what are we going to do?" she whispered brokenly into my neck.

I stroked her back soothingly, but couldn't offer her any words of comfort because I had no answer to her question.

**{=ALS=}**

Two days after Father was brought to Cook County, he was still unconscious but both Mother and I held on to the hope that he would survive. His heart was still beating, although weakly. He was still alive at the moment, and as long as that was the case, we wouldn't give up. Far more wondrous things had happened.

Father's partner, Mr. Peter Matthews, had visited the hospital the day after he was committed and made us aware of Father's testament. He also reassured us that, should the unthinkable happen, he would gladly take over the practice until I'd graduated and could take my father's position.

It was when he said this to us that I could actually see my own dreams wave goodbye before they took the train to world's end. If Father were to die, I would never be able to become a soldier, no matter how much I still wanted it. As the new man of the household, I couldn't leave Mother behind to fend for herself. She would need me too much.

On the third day, I tried to convince her to come home with me and rest. She never left Father's side, not even to eat, as she'd made sure Mary had fixed food that she could bring with her into the hospital. She even slept in the uncomfortable chair next to Father's bed.

Technically, it was against the hospital's rules, but the staff knew Father might not live for long and they would never force her to leave his side. But she really needed to rest. The circles underneath her eyes were worrying me.

She was just about to agree when Father's breathing became slightly haggard and a wracking cough shook his body. He was still unconscious, but his entire body curled in on itself in pain, and it was obvious that he couldn't escape his torment even in sleep.

"I can't leave," Mother said in a broken whisper and grabbed a tight hold of Father's hand, which had transformed into a brittle, bony version of the strong hands I was used to seeing.

He was slowly getting thinner, as it was hard to give him the nutrition he needed. We practically saw him starve to death by the minute.

A nurse came up to us with a basin filled with cool water and a cloth to dip into it. Mother accepted it tiredly and wet the fabric before wringing it out and placing it on Father's forehead. "His fever is still very high," she mumbled, and I knew she wasn't really speaking to me.

After another couple of hours, I felt the need to stretch. I really wanted to walk around a bit, maybe even go outside and get some fresh air, but I didn't want to leave Father's side.

His coughing had gotten worse, and more frequent. I was quite convinced that this was his last hours, and if that was the case, I could handle the stiffness of my own body. I was sure he was going through much worse at the moment, so I had no right to complain.

A commotion outside caused me to turn my head to the window. I heard a woman scream, and a child crying. There was also the sound of running feet and more shouting. I got curious and got up from my chair to peer outside.

What I saw made me go cold. An elderly woman was lying on the sidewalk, to have seemingly fainted. Her parasol and paper fan were surrounding her where they'd fallen when she dropped the items. The woman she was with, whom could have been her daughter, was hysterical as she cried, and a young boy, which I believed was her son, was enveloped in a tight hug against her bosom.

Several men were coming their way, trying to help, but it was unnecessary as doctors and nurses were already on their way across the street to collect the woman and bring her inside the hospital.

The scenario reminded me too much of what had happened to Father.

What was going on? This wasn't just a coincidence. Something was causing people to collapse and fall ill with what seemed like symptoms of a normal cold, but this was anything but normal.

Would it get worse? Was anyone safe?

"Edward? Edward!" I whirled around at the sound of Mother's tortured cry of my name. She was draped over Father's lifeless body. "No, _please_! Nurse! _Help_, please, he's not breathing!"

I quickly strode over to Mother's side and placed my hands on her shoulders to remove her from his body. If the doctors were going to work on him, they needed space. But Mother didn't want to cooperate. She had a tight hold on his nightshirt and refused to move an inch; all the while, tears were streaming steadily down her cheeks.

Dr. Cullen came up to us. He tried to reach Father's chest with his stethoscope, but Mother was in the way.

"Mother, you have to move," I said into her ear. My voice was shaking badly from the shock of seeing my father so still, but I had to think of Mother first. She was completely broken.

"No, no! I can't leave him. I _can't_!"

"Mother, _please_…"

Her hold loosened, and I pulled her away, immediately placing my arms around her. She turned into me and cried against my neck. Her sobs and hiccups got worse, and I continuously stroked her back soothingly.

I saw Dr. Cullen place the stethoscope over my Father's chest, but something in his posture made it look as if he already knew that he wouldn't hear a heartbeat.

He removed it from his ears and looked up at me with apologetic eyes.

"I am so sorry…" he said softly, but Mother obviously heard him because her cry became louder and even more heartbroken.

It tore at me to see her like this. Mother was such a beautiful and fragile soul. She shouldn't have to go through this kind of pain.

She chanted the word _"No"_ over and over.

I swallowed thickly as I felt my own tears start to fall slowly down my cheeks.

* * *

**A/N: **Oh no! What will they do now? How will the cope?

Like? Love? Dislike? Hate?

Leave me a line and let me know :-D


	4. Chapter 3, May 19th 1918

**A/N: **Hi! :-D Are you ready for another look into Edward's early life? I hope so, because I have a delivery! ;-P It's chapter 3! Yay!

This chapter has a slight tissue warning, just so you know x) It was my pre-reader that advised me to put that warning there. :-D

Edward uses the curse word "Damn" in this chapter and I just wanted to make you aware of the fact that the first record of that word being used was back in the early 1600's (information found out by my beta) so it's very plausible for him to use it in 1918 :-) And for those of you that believe Edward wouldn't curse, well, let me remind you of the suggestion of a very crude word coming out of Edward's mouth in Midnight Sun when Bella is almost crushed by that van.

I know that's in present time, but I really don't think Edward was as virtuous as people seem to believe he was, because no one is ;-P

**Special thanks to my pre-reader JeniK and Jasmine, and as well as my beta Chandrakanta**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 3 MAY 19****th**** 1918**

There was no symbolism on the day of Father's burial. There was no rain. Not even a damn cloud in sight, nothing that indicated that it was a sad day.

In fact, the sun was out and high in the clear, blue sky. The heat was intense and the sweat was already making the collar of my shirt damp in the neck. It was very uncomfortable to be in a black suit when it was ninety-six degrees outside, but of course I endured it out of respect for my father.

I wasn't crying as they lowered his casket into the ground. I couldn't cry. I'd emptied myself of tears during the two days of constant crying after his death.

I saw Mother lifting a handkerchief underneath her mourning veil to dry the tears that were falling on both of our behalves for the man that was now placed six feet below ground.

I felt Evelyn grab my hand and squeeze it comfortingly. I squeezed right back to show my appreciation. Lewis was on Evelyn's other side and we were all staring at the gaping grave.

It felt good to have my friends there as support. Without them, I don't know if I could have handled the overwhelming grief I felt but couldn't express. There's just no way to explain to someone who's never lost a loved one to death how it feels. It's impossible.

When the ceremony was over, I placed my hat back on my head and offered Mother my arm so I could escort her to the motorcar.

Once there, I helped Mother inside before turning to Evelyn and Lewis, who'd followed us.

"Is she going to be okay?" Evelyn asked and studied my mother with worried eyes. Mother was slumped forward in her seat, the handkerchief pressed to her eyes, and her body shaking with her sobs.

I sighed. "I hope so. I'm going to take her home and get her to rest. Mary will take care of her while I talk to Mr. Matthews about Father's testament." I brought out the pocket watch that had been in Father's possession when he was admitted to the hospital. I'd been carrying it around ever since the nurse gave it back. "Actually, I have to get home if I don't want to be late for the meeting."

My friends nodded and I bid them goodbye before climbing into the driver's seat.

Mary had left the funeral before us and so she was waiting for us on the porch when we came home. She was still in her black dress, but she had taken off the bonnet she'd been wearing and had pulled her blonde hair back into her usual tight knot in the neck.

"Mary, take Mother upstairs and help her into bed, then make her a cup of tea. I'll be in the office, so when Mr. Matthews arrives, just show him there."

She nodded and placed an arm around Mother's shoulders.

I was going through some of my father's old cases—since I was going to replace him, I wanted to do the best job I possibly could—when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," I said without looking up from the folder I had in my hand.

"Mr. Matthews is here now, Mr. Masen," Mary said and stepped to the side to let my father's partner inside.

He was a tall man; his build resembled Father's quite a bit, but he was of a higher age and it was evident from his residing hairline and wrinkled face.

I put the folder aside and entwined my fingers so I could rest my chin on top of them. "Thank you, Mary. You can go attend to my mother now."

Mary closed the door behind her and I gestured for Mr. Matthews to sit down.

"You fit behind that desk, Edward. It's as if you belong there."

I offered the man a small smile and shook his hand before he settled on the chair on the other side of said desk. He couldn't have been more wrong. I didn't belong behind a desk. I was a practical man, and it had never been in my dreams to be stuck behind a desk for the rest of my life. Not that there was much I could do about that now.

"Can I get you anything to drink, Mr. Matthews?" I gestured toward Father's liquor cabinet with one hand.

Mr. Matthews shook his head. "If we're going to be partners, I need you to start calling me Peter, Edward. Mr. Matthews is only reserved for when we are with clients."

I hesitated briefly. It would feel disrespectful toward the older man if I were to address him with his first name instead of his title. But since he insisted, I really didn't have a choice.

"Of course. My apologies. So, _Peter_, do you want a drink?" I stood up and walked toward the cabinet.

"I'll have a clean scotch."

I poured the drink and offered it to the man before sitting down behind the desk once again. Mr. Matthews raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing for you?" he asked.

I smiled. "I'm not of age to drink yet," I replied.

Mr. Matthews sighed. "Right, your seventeenth birthday is next month. It's a tragedy that you had to lose your father at such a young age." He frowned. "It doesn't really seem fair, does it?"

The bitterness that seeped into my voice couldn't be stopped. "Life's hardly ever fair."

Mr. Matthews nodded. "True." He put down his glass and reached down for his briefcase. He pulled out a large envelope and placed it on the desk. "I've perused through your father's testament, and it's not that complicated. He's left everything to your mother, and a few small things to you. You can take a look for yourself if you want."

I nodded in understanding and reached for the document. I'd known beforehand that the affair would be simple. When it came down to it, my father was a simple man; sometimes hard to understand, but simple. He never complicated things unless he really had to.

It was painful to see the testament bear the name Father and I shared—it was the only connection I had with him now, and even though we did not share a middle name, it felt like I was looking at my own testament—however, I forced myself to read through the entire document.

_Edward J. Masen_

_Last Will and Testament_

_Probated May 12, 1918_

_State of Illinois, City of Chicago_

_I, Edward J. Masen of said city and State, do make and declare this to be my last will and testament in manner and form following to with:_

_First, I will to my beloved wife, Elizabeth C. Masen, all of my possessions, such as the house in Norwood Park, Chicago, Illinois, personal items, and memorabilia. At the death of my wife, said Elizabeth C. Masen, I will all of said possessions to my only son, Edward A. Masen._

_In this event, said son will pay all debts and funeral expenses._

_I will to said son, Edward A. Masen, my half of the law practice that I have with my partner Peter G. Matthews, as well as my motorcar._

_Second, I hereby appoint said partner and friend Peter G. Matthews as the executor of this Will._

_In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal this the__third day of April, 1913._

It was signed by Father, and I followed the curve of the letters in his name with my eyes.

The man had always been emotionally distant in my life; however, it didn't mean that I wouldn't miss him. He was my father, the man that contributed in giving me life, and he had always made sure that I wouldn't miss anything materialistic during my upbringing.

He was a strict parent, but that had only caused me to respect him even more. I might not have wanted to follow in his footsteps when it came to career-choice, but he had been my role-model.

He wasn't the best father by any means, but he was _my_ father.

"Edward?" I looked up at Mr. Matthews when he said my name. "Are you okay?" He looked at me worriedly, and that was when I realized that tears were once again falling from my eyes.

I quickly wiped them away. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came ove—"

"Don't apologize, Edward," Mr. Matthews interrupted me. "It's okay to mourn. You just buried him today."

We sat quietly for a few minutes, but the silence was disrupted by a knock on the door. Mary came inside with an apologetic expression. "I didn't mean to interrupt, Mr. Masen, but it's your mother. She's asking for you."

"That's fine, Mary. I'll be there in a minute."

She ducked back out and Mr. Matthews turned to me. "I'll need for your mother to come down to the office some day and sign the deed for the house, but that's not necessary until she feels better. You and I can look over the legal matters of the practice after you've graduated this summer." He closed his briefcase and stood up. "I'll let myself out." I walked with him to the door where we shook hands. "Your father was a great man," he said with his hand still in mine. "But I have no doubt that you'll be able to fill his shoes just fine."

I smiled appreciatively at the older man. "Thank you…_Peter._" It reassured me that an older and much more experienced man like Mr. Matthews believed in me. Maybe I would be able to take my Father's place after all. I'd been helping around the office since March, so I knew how things worked around there.

When Mr. Matthews had left, I made my way to Mother's room. She was tucked into bed and her eyes were closed, but I could see that she wasn't sleeping. She turned her head when she heard me come inside.

"You wanted to see me, Mother."

She sat up and leaned back against her pillows. She gestured with her hand that she wanted me to come sit with her. When I did, she opened her arms, and I leaned down so that I rested my ear against her heart. She started to run her fingers through my hair, and I felt all of the tension leave my body and relaxed completely against her bosom.

"We're going to be alright," she mumbled, mostly to herself, but I heard it.

I didn't comment. I just hoped she was right.

* * *

**A/N: **So Sr. is now buried and Edward's the new man of the house :-) Was his maturity realistic? Seriously, sometimes it feels like I write him being too mature for a sixteen-year-old boy, but then I think that children _were_ raised differently back then x)

Well, I think most of you know what will happen in the next chapter :-P

Did you like this chapter? Love? Dislike? Hate?

Tell me in a review and I'll be forever grateful to you for giving me feedback :-D


	5. Chapter 4, Aug 27th - Sep 4th 1918

**A/N: **Wow, a fast update! Now, those don't happen often for this story, but they did tonight :-D

**Special thanks to my pre-reader JeniK and Jasmine, and as well as my beta Chandrakanta**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 4 AUGUST 27****th**** – SEPTEMBER 4****th**** 1918**

I could finally understand the fatigue that Father had experienced every day after work. I was so tired, but still, I always sat through dinner and talked cheerfully with Mother so that she wouldn't worry.

Ever since we buried Father in May, she'd been slightly overbearing. As soon as I showed any sign of not feeling a hundred percent well, her eyes would glimmer with worry and she would ask all kinds of questions about my health.

I was completely healthy; only tired.

During the summer, I'd been able to take the courses needed for me to graduate a year earlier than my friends. It was the best solution because that meant I was able to start working at the law firm in early August.

Work was nothing like school. I knew that now, and I often longed to go back so that I could be with my friends instead of sitting locked behind a desk and helping people with their legal problems.

I wasn't even seeing the cases through.

Since I hadn't gone to law school, I wasn't allowed to take on any cases of my own. I was mostly just sitting with Mr. Matthews and making smaller decisions with him that concerned the firm.

So I couldn't understand why I felt so tired all the time. It wasn't as if I was doing anything, except from studying a few of the law books that I found in the shared office from time to time.

Mother met me in the hall and took my hat and coat for me, just as she had always done with Father, minus the scotch.

"How was your day, honey?"

I smiled through my tiredness to humor her. "It was good, Mother. What did you do today?"

"Oh, nothing. I had afternoon tea with Mrs. Lawrence and she recommended a new book, so I've mostly been reading."

"Was it a good book?" I didn't ask out of curiosity. I'd found out that if I kept Mother talking, her focus wasn't on me, and she wouldn't comment on the dark circles underneath my eyes.

"No, it was horrible; too controversial. It made my head spin."

A genuine smile grazed my lips at her comment.

We made our way to the lounge and my eyes unwillingly travelled to my piano. A sigh escaped me when I thought of the months that had passed without me as much as touching the instrument.

Mother followed my gaze and her eyes welled with tears. "It's been long since you played."

I nodded. The last time I played, Father was still alive.

"Do you think you could play for me?" she asked with a hope-filled voice.

I wasn't sure if I could, but I didn't want to disappoint her. She was always so peaceful when she heard me play and she needed to relax, even if only for a moment, therefore I nodded again and made my way over to the bench.

I placed my hands on the keys, and the familiar feeling of serenity passed through my body when I tentatively pressed down a note. This was my sanctuary. My way to escape reality had always been through music. With the music, I could pretend to be somewhere all my problems didn't exist.

Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_ began playing from the piano, and I vaguely heard Mother sit down on the couch.

When a soft hand came down on my shoulder, I startled slightly. My finger slipped and pressed down on a false key which caused me to cringe.

"Edward, you have to eat before your dinner goes cold."

I glanced at the clock in confusion and saw that I'd been playing for almost two hours. Whenever I played, I got lost in the music and was seldom aware of my surroundings until the last note had faded away. It had been no different this time.

"I'll be right there," I said lowly. I needed to come back to reality by myself. Mother knew this, and I was grateful when I felt her remove her hand and leave the room.

Later that night, when I'd eaten dinner and Mother and I were listening to the radio, something the announcer said caught my attention.

"…_in New York. Hospitals have reported at least fifty similar cases. All victims suffered from high fever and sometimes delirium. The possibility of us facing a pandemic is upon us. Doctors advise people to…"_

I stopped listening as I felt dread wash over me. I'd suspected this ever since I saw that woman outside the hospital when Father died. The summer had been very calm, but with over fifty cases in New York in August alone, the pandemic wasn't just a possibility anymore. It was here.

The disease that took Father's life was back, with vengeance. It would get worse. I could feel it.

Mother was obviously not listening, because if she had, she would have reacted. Instead, I found her looking at me with an unreadable expression.

"There's something I want to give you," she finally said when I was starting to feel uncomfortable.

I was distraught when I saw her remove her wedding ring and offered it to me. "What are you doing? Put that back on!" It was her only memorabilia after Father that symbolized their love. She had pictures and all of the things he left behind, as well as jewelry he'd given her for birthdays and anniversaries, but the ring was different. It wasn't just a piece of jewelry. It was a gift from his heart that had always belonged to my mother.

"No, I want you to have it. Whenever you find the right girl, give this to her. It has fulfilled its promise between your father and me. It symbolized our love until death parted us. It's time to pass it on to the next generation."

I wanted to protest further, but Mother's determination was almost palpable, so I reluctantly took the offered ring and curled my hand around it.

Mother was pleased and announced that she would go to bed. I nodded and bid her goodnight with a kiss on her cheek.

I stayed up late that night—all the impressions from the day swirling around in my head, making it impossible for me to retire. I was also terrified of what the future entailed. When Father fell ill, my entire life changed irrevocably. I used to be one of those that had almost everything in my life planned out, but now I had no idea what tomorrow held for me, and I did not like it.

Eventually, I climbed the stairs to my room, and once I was underneath the covers, I fell into a restless sleep.

**{=ALS=}**

_I frowned when I saw Father walking over to me. How could he be here? He was supposed to be dead, therefore how could he walk up to me?_

"_Father? What-how are you—?"_

"_Not now, son, I don't have much time. You need to be prepared. Something's coming and you need to be prepared."_

"_What are you talking about? What is coming?"_

"_I can't tell you what…only that it is. There is one person that will come your way. You need to trust him. He's going to show you the way."_

_He was walking away from me again. I tried to follow, but I found that my feet were buried in the cement I was standing on. I couldn't move and I watched helplessly how Father disappeared._

"_Father! What is coming?"_

_He didn't come back to explain, and I was left screaming after him._

My eyes flew open and I gasped as I came back from my very confusing dream. The moment I awoke, I forgot what the dream was about. All I could remember were the words, _"something's coming."_

I shivered when I realized that I was completely drenched in sweat. I was freezing because my sheets where bunched up around my feet, and the dampness covering my skin made my body go cold.

I sat up in my bed slowly; the fatigue was still clouding my mind and made my head spin.

My dream had really done a number on me. The muscles in my back were as tense as piano strings, and more sweat was beading on my forehead—although the last one could be because of the high temperature in the room.

I glanced at the pocket watch residing on my nightstand and saw that it wasn't even five a.m. yet, but there wasn't a chance that I could fall back asleep, so I dragged myself from the bed and went to the bathroom to take a very much needed shower.

A wave of vertigo made me take support against the wall. I didn't understand what was happening to me. I felt tired, as if I hadn't slept at all, but I knew that I couldn't go back to bed either. I still felt warm, even though I was showering in water much colder than I usually did. There was also a hint of nausea in the back of my throat.

My entire being was just off. I didn't feel like myself at all.

When I was done in the bathroom, I sat down on the bed and stayed for several minutes, but it didn't help.

The nausea that I felt before came back as I descended the stairs. I had to swallow repeatedly just to stop myself from throwing up, but it felt as if something was lodging my throat. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.

I made my way to the kitchen and heavily sat down on one of the stools surrounding the workbench. Mary hadn't arrived to start with breakfast yet, but she would probably walk through the door any minute.

I couldn't explain what happened next. Suddenly, blackness enveloped me and I fell forward against the bench.

I opened my eyes again slowly. My heart was racing in my chest, and my breathing was labored while the muscles in my fingers were having spasms.

I couldn't remember if I'd ever fainted before, but I was sure that was what I'd just done.

I could only have been unconscious for a few seconds, maybe a minute, because Mary was still not here and my mother was probably still asleep.

It was a mystery to me as to why I fainted in the first place. The little energy I had before was gone now. I couldn't move from the stool even if I had wanted to.

I stayed in the position I was in, only adjusted my weight a bit so I would be more comfortable, and closed my eyes again. It took only seconds for me to fall asleep.

"_Your time is up, son."_

_I looked around to see where Father's voice came from, but it was too light to focus on anything._

"_Remember what I said."_

"_Who is it that I'm supposed to trust?"_

"Edward?"

"_You'll know when the time comes."_

"Edward!?"

Someone was shaking me awake and I jolted upright in shock. Another wave of vertigo caused me to bury my face in my hands and groan.

"Oh, thank god! You scared me half to death," Mother said next to me, but I couldn't comprehend what she was saying—my head was still spinning badly.

"Edward?"

I groaned in answer.

Mother removed my hands from my face forcibly, yet gently, and placed her own on my forehead. I wasn't looking at her, but I think I heard her whisper, _"Oh no!"_

"Mother?" I said in a raspy voice. It still felt as if something was clogging my throat.

"Yes, honey?"

I let my eyes wander to her face. It was lined with worry and dread. "I don't feel so good."

She let out a tortured cry that she quickly silenced with her hand. Her eyes filled with tears that spilled over and ran down her cheeks. She was shaking her head as if she didn't want to believe what I just told her.

I already knew why she was so distraught. It was practically written on her forehead what it was that was going through her head. She was absolutely terrified that it was my turn to leave her now.

"We have to get you to the hospital."

I didn't even protest.

I tried making it as easy for her as possible by not leaning too much onto her for support while she slowly helped me to a station where we could board an L train. Since Mother didn't have a driver's license, she couldn't drive me with our car herself.

When we finally arrived at the hospital, Mother made sure that I sat down before going up to the nurses' station.

I looked up when I heard a familiar musical voice. "Mrs. Masen? What are you doing here?" Dr. Cullen was walking up to her with concern shining in his strange golden eyes.

"Oh, Dr. Cullen! You have to help me. It's Edward. I think he's fallen ill."

Dr. Cullen turned his head to me. As soon as he spotted me, he strode forward and kneeled in front of my chair. "Edward? How are you feeling?"

I looked into his eyes and was just about to answer when I stopped myself. There was something in the doctor's gaze that told me that I didn't have to answer. He already knew what was wrong with me.

I dropped my eyes to the floor and Dr. Cullen straightened up. "Amy, get a bed ready for Mr. Masen. I'm afraid we have another one," he said lowly to a nurse that had come up to us.

"Yes, Dr. Cullen."

A lump formed in my throat at his words and I tried to swallow it down. I, however, must have swallowed wrong because it hurt and caused me to start coughing.

"Quickly, Amy."

"Right away, Dr. Cullen."

I couldn't focus on what was happening around me. It was all a blur. Suddenly, I was in a bed in a room filled with moaning and groaning people as well as their relatives.

I looked to my side and saw Mother sitting next to my bed. There were tear lines on her cheeks and fresh tears falling from her eyes.

It wasn't until then that I registered that she was holding my hand in hers. I could barely feel it.

"You will be all right. Do you hear me, Edward? You _will_ be all right," she whispered over and over again.

I could only respond to that in one way. "I'm sorry," I whispered back.

Dr. Cullen came up to us with a syringe in his hand. I looked at it suspiciously.

"We don't want you in unnecessary pain, Edward. This will help you rest and store your energy. You need to be strong to fight that fever."

I nodded in consent and felt relief wash through my body when blackness embraced me the way you did an old friend.

**{=ALS=}**

I was floating in and out of unconsciousness. Not much made sense to me. I had no idea how much time passed, only that it did.

Sometimes, I woke up to the feeling of a cool cloth being dabbed on my forehead by my mother, other times it was Dr. Cullen checking my vitals and temperature, but I was never awake for long.

My dreams, however, were of the strange kind. I saw things like a purple ferret, or a green mouse with butterfly wings.

But there were also times when my dreams had logic in them. It could be storm clouds collecting before the rain falling while I stood alone in the woods, or a childhood memory of when Mr. Abernathy first taught me to play the piano.

The strangest dreams, though, were the ones that made me believe I was awake. They were all of Dr. Cullen. Mostly it was of him looking at me with sad eyes.

With each dream, his eyes grew darker, which confused me. Eye color wasn't supposed to be able to change.

Once, I saw my father stand next to Dr. Cullen and nod when I looked at him questioningly. I didn't understand what it was he wanted to tell me, but it felt as if it was important.

It was night when I woke up again.

I immediately knew that something was wrong because Mother wasn't sitting next to me. She hadn't left my side since I was brought to the hospital.

I looked around tiredly until I spotted a nurse. She came up to me and gave me a gentle smile.

"Where is my mother?" I asked in a broken whisper.

The smile fell and her eyes shifted for a second from my eyes to the bed next to me. I turned my head slowly, terrified of what I would see.

Mother was sleeping with a frown on her face.

At first, I thought that she'd been allowed to borrow a bed next to me to get some sleep, and I felt relieved that she got some rest. But then I saw her erratic breathing and the beads of sweat on her upper lip.

"No," I breathed out. Tears blurred my vision and I stretched a shaking hand toward Mother's sleeping form.

I couldn't accept that my mother was also sick. Was it my fault? Had she gotten it from me?

How could I do that to my mother?

* * *

**A/N: **So, Edward has now become sick. You all know what will happen in the close upcoming chapters, don't you ;-)

A few history facts that I want to give you before I let you go:

About **the language**, I am very aware of the fact that my story takes place in 1918. Please trust me to have done my research. I've found that people didn't speak a whole lot different back then. More grammatically correct, but otherwise, the language was pretty much the same.

**Showers** became popular in the middle of the 19th century although, they weren't very advanced back then. In the early 20th century, every upper-class home had a shower installed.

In 1889, **the electric water-heater** was invented, so Edward has never known a shower where he couldn't have warm water x)

**Automobiles/Motorcars/Cars** was a huge luxury in the early 20th century. Only a few Americans owned a car back then, but once again, remember that Edward's family was upper-class. The car did belong to his father before him, and Edward wishes in ch. 1 that he could buy his own, but it was only a wish. Edward would never have been able to afford a car on his own, although that has changed now since he's the one in charge of the Masen fortune.


	6. Chapter 5, Sep 15th - Sep 18th 1918

**A/N: **As you've probably noticed, there is now a notification in the summery that this story is indeed a re-write. I was becoming tired of receiving PMs that told me that the reason I wasn't getting readers on this story was because I was slow. That nobody wants to read a story that takes three years to get 5 chapters out on.

Well, here's my reply to all of you that wrote that to me: I didn't take three years, but if I'd had, you have no idea what could have happened in my life that caused the assumed delay.

Stop being so rude to the authors that gives you a part of themselves for free! They (including me) do it for your enjoyment, so stop acting so goddamn childish!

Rant over!

**I want you to know that my pre-readers JeniK and Jasmine as well as my beta Chandrakanta rocks! **

**I already think that I've made this story better compared to the first chapter, but they make it **_**even**_** better.**

**Chandrakanta for correcting my stupid technical mistakes and Jasmine for questioning why I write what I do. She makes me re-think and helps me get a more detailed picture of what I try to explain with my words!**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 5: SEPTEMBER 15****th**** – SEPTEMBER 18****th**** 1918**

I cringed at the sound of rubber boots walking in the puddles of blood on the floor. It was sickening to know that the boots were necessary because of the amount of blood people coughed up.

I was one of them.

That was one of the few times that I was really coherent; when I was coughing up blood. When I was leaning over my bed with bloody mucus dripping from my mouth, I saw the blood on the floor, the other sick, and the hospital staff with those damn rubber boots.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been here, but I'd definitely gone for the worse during that time. I was almost constantly asleep. At least I think I was asleep since I still had all of those strange dreams. Both the ones that didn't make any sense as well as the ones that I had now come to recognize as memories.

I was in excruciating pain. Everything hurt. It hurt to open my eyes: it hurt to move, but most of all, it hurt to breathe.

I tried to take a deep breath through my mouth, but it rasped down my throat painfully and I instinctively started to cough. I grimaced when I felt the fluid from my lungs travel up and out of my mouth.

I felt the liquid slip out of the corner of my mouth and stain the collar of my hospital gown. I was too weak to wipe the excess away from my chin. It was disgusting, but I didn't really care. Why should I care when I was dying anyway?

When the attack was over, I slowly fell into the now-familiar blackness.

I had a dream, or maybe it was reality this time, that Dr. Cullen was examining me. Something was obscuring the image the way it did when I was looking through my lashes. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them; almost black.

How could that be? I was sure his eyes were golden before.

When he was done with his examination, he looked at a nurse next to him and shook his head.

That shake told me everything I needed to know about my condition. I wasn't going to make it. This was how I would die.

But if it was a dream, maybe it was only my subconscious that showed me my deepest fears.

It was too hard to separate dream from reality in my state, so I let darkness swallow me again.

**{=ALS=}**

I vaguely felt that someone was interlinking their fingers with mine. It was a delicate grasp that, even though it was weak, held a lot of love and worry.

With sluggish movements, I turned my head and opened my eyes slowly and saw a slightly blurry image of Mother looking at me with glassy eyes. Her appearance made me want to cry. Her once full and beautiful features were now hollow and ashy. It looked like her cheekbones could break through her fragile-looking skin any second.

The strong grip she used to have was now weak because of her brittle fingers.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she only tightened her grip and shook her head.

"Just rest, honey," she said in an unrecognizable voice. "You need—" her voice failed her, but she only cleared it and tried again. "You need to save your strength to fight this."

She was in denial if she thought I would survive. I was far worse than she was, and even though I didn't want to entertain the thought for even a second, the chances of my mother surviving weren't high, which in turn made my chances even smaller.

Being a devoted Christian man, I prayed to God that he would let my mother survive. She was only thirty-six and could still re-marry and have a new family if she got through this. It wasn't too late for her.

A nurse came up to us and asked if she could do anything. "W-water," I managed to rasp out and she supported my head while I took a sip from the cup she offered me.

The water cleared my throat a bit, and I sighed in relief.

"You both need to sleep," the nurse said in a gentle but stern voice. She was casting pointed looks toward our entwined hands. I was about to release my grip, but Mother did not allow it, so we fell asleep like that.

**{=ALS=}**

Time passed in the same notion.

I was only awake for the shortest periods of time. I couldn't focus on anything.

If I happened to wake up, I would soon fall back into unconsciousness by the pain in my entire body. I felt like an old man instead of the seventeen-year-old I was supposed to be.

I wondered if I would notice it when I died, or if it would feel like when I fell asleep. Would I somehow know that it would be the last time my eyes closed or would I just slip into darkness?

Would there be a light that called to me? Had I deserved to enter the gates to Paradise or would I be sent to hell? I couldn't remember ever doing anything that would cause the devil to want me.

I had succeeded in staying awake for longer than a few seconds, but my eyes were closed. It was more comfortable than having them open.

My heart was beating at an uneven pace. Sometimes, it even stopped for a short second until it jolted back into its rhythm, and I would gasp in fear.

I was terrified of the moment when it wouldn't start beating again.

I heard mumblings next to me. It sounded almost like my mother and Dr. Cullen, but that could have been a conjuration of my imagination.

"_It's time, son. Remember what I said. You have to trust him."_

My eyes flew open and flashed around the room in a show of unusual energy. Everything in the ward looked exactly the same, but my father's voice had been so clear. He'd frequently visited my dreams, but this was the first time I'd heard him when I was awake.

What was it time for? What would happen now? Was it death?

When I couldn't see anything unusual, I re-closed my eyes, and I saw Father with a serious expression. But he wasn't alone this time. Mother stood next to him, once again her beautiful self, and she had a sad smile on her face.

"_I made him promise, honey,"_ she said. Her voice was eerie and hollow, like it wasn't from this world, not at all the clear tones Father had spoken just seconds before.

I wanted to know what all of it meant. I couldn't make any sense of it.

The vision evaporated when my bed was jostled. I opened my eyes in confusion. Why was I being moved? I groaned when the continuous jostling made my stomach turn. But I didn't have anything to expel of. My stomach was empty, and I ended up dry-heaving over the edge of my still-moving bed.

When I was once again on my back, I looked up only to see Dr. Cullen. He was the one moving my bed. He was looking forward, not making any eye-contact with me.

When we closed in on an area filled with people, he slowed down and whispered in an almost inaudible voice that everything would be fine soon. He met my confused gaze for a second and then covered my face with some kind of fabric before he continued to roll me through the hospital.

I felt a sudden temperature change, but even though my eyes were open, I couldn't see anything because of the fabric.

When Dr. Cullen uncovered me, I saw that we were now in a sterile, dim room. It was colder in here than the rest of the hospital and it looked more like a lab than a room.

I tried to ask Dr. Cullen what he was doing, but he wasn't looking at me. I opened my mouth to speak, but the only sound that came out was a low gurgling.

Dr. Cullen quickly placed his hand over my mouth and a finger over his own as if to tell me to be quiet. He looked around again and waited to see if someone might have heard me.

He finally met my gaze with steady eyes. They were once again golden.

He slowly leaned closer to my ear. His breath was very cold and made goose bumps appear on my neck. "I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do."

I shuddered at all the implications those words could have. What was it he was going to do to me? I wanted to know, but he didn't say anything else, even though my eyes had all the questions my mouth was unable to speak at the moment.

My heart leaped in my chest when he slid his arms underneath my body and easily lifted me from the bed. Dr. Cullen did not look strong enough to lift me in this fashion, but he did so without difficulty. He did not even seem to think I was the least bit heavy.

My surprise locked my limbs, and I stopped breathing for a short second. Even through my fever-induced delirium, I knew that this wasn't normal. A man of Dr. Cullen's height and physique shouldn't be able to lift a man of my weight like it was nothing.

I knew that I'd probably lost a lot of weight during my time of sickness, but I wasn't exactly light because of it.

It was strange to be carried. I felt how Dr. Cullen was holding me away from his body so all of my weight was on his arms. I could also feel the muscles in his arms when he began walking toward a door in the very back. He had more of it than you would think when you first saw him.

I closed my eyes when I felt my fatigue once again. All the excitement had given me a surge of adrenaline, but it was wearing off now, and my limbs once again became weak.

My heart thumped unevenly and did its stop and start motion again. Dr. Cullen's eyes flashed to mine worriedly. It was almost as if he'd been able to hear my heartbeat. His next words strengthened that theory.

"Edward, you have to keep your heart beating. If you don't, I can't save you."

Save me? How could he possibly save me? I was dying, and he was taking me away from the hospital.

Fresh air reached my nose, and I realized we were outside. I took a deep breath and sighed. It was so much easier to breathe outside than it was inside the stuffed hospital where it smelled like urine and death.

I opened my eyes again in hopes of seeing the town one more time before I took my last breath, but what I saw made my eyes widen in shock. Everything was only a blur. The wind that I hadn't felt before blew past us at top speed.

What was going on? Why was everything moving so fast?

I cast a glance at Dr. Cullen, but his face didn't give anything away. His face was determined and his eyes were focused far away. He must have felt my gaze on him, because he looked down at me for a second. He didn't maintain eye-contact. He quickly looked forward again, but he looked even more determined than before.

A thrilling surge went through my stomach when it felt as if I was being dropped, but I still felt Dr. Cullen's steady arms underneath me, so I couldn't explain the feeling. It reminded me of when you were going downhill at a fast pace; like a surge of adrenaline.

Seconds later, we were once again inside. I didn't recognize my surroundings, although that could have been because I couldn't really focus on anything. All I knew was that we were inside a house. I detected the smell of pine and wet earth.

The house was cold, as if it wasn't used regularly and heated up. The smell got me thinking of the woods, and an image of a hunting cabin entered my mind.

I had always wanted to go hunting with my father when I was younger, but he wasn't an outdoors kind of person.

But it was impossible for us to be that far into the forest. We had been at the hospital only a minute earlier, so we must be some place in downtown Chicago that smelled like pine and wet earth. It was the only logical explanation.

I was placed on something soft. There was a pillow underneath my head, so I guessed I was in a bed.

I guess I should have been freaking out more than I was. Here I was in an unknown house with a man I did not know, but the fever was still burning through my body and somewhere in my mind, I was explaining all of the strange things that had happened as a part of one of the illogical dreams I had.

I would probably awake any second and realize that I was still at the hospital, waiting for death to take me.

Suddenly, I felt something sharp cut into my neck. I screamed out in pain and tried to move away, but an ice-cold hand came up around my throat to keep me in place.

A burning sensation started from the point of the cut and began to flow through my body. I was gasping for air, but I couldn't draw in a proper breath.

The hand was removed from my throat, and my back arched as an ear-piercing scream escaped me. Everything was burning, and it was unbearable, so much worse than the fever had ever made me feel. My entire body started to shake as my muscles tensed up.

My heart started to beat at a faster pace, but the faster it beat, the more the heat rose in temperature inside of me. It was as if the burning was somehow associated with my heart-beat.

Dr. Cullen's face appeared before me, and what I saw made a shot of fear go through my body.

His lips were tinted red, and a liquid that appeared to be blood was seeping out from the corner of his mouth.

He used the back of his hand to wipe it away and then looked at me with sorrow-filled eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and I realized with a start that the blood covering his teeth was _mine_.

* * *

**A/N: **It has happened! Carlisle has bitten Edward!

Next up is the transformation. I know some of you are tired of reading it since there are thousands of stories out there that gives you a detailed explanation of how it works, but bear with me. It's a part of the story and how Edward's telepathic powers develop.

**Historical facts:**

To dissolve any confusion, when I wrote the part where Edward and Elizabeth are holding hands, it was possible because during the flu the hospital beds where going from wall to wall. Nurses and doctors barely had room to move around the ward, so the beds are pushed very close together.

You can find a pic of how the ward looked at my website or on my Facebook profile. Both links can be found on my profile :-)


	7. Chapter 6, Sep 18th - Sep 21st 1918

**A/N:** I can't give you a legitimate reason as to why it's taken so long for me to update this story.

Well, there was a bit of a misunderstanding between me and my pre-reader but all of that got sorted out and now it's all good :-P

I guess another reason is that I've been so freaking tired after work every day and so the only thing appealing then is to act a bit brain-dead and only watch movies and series until I have to sleep.

But I have this chapter for you here now and I hope you'll like it :-D

Edward will now leave the life as he knew it behind! Let his journey begin!

**Thanks goes as always to my pre-readers JeniK and Jennifer Talbear (Welcome as a Pre-reader to this story by the way!)**

**Also to the fabulous woman that is Chandrakanta! You are truly an amazing (and possibly a supernatural) woman! I'm starting to believe that you might be one of those that are "allergic" to kryptonite! :-P**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 6: SEPTEMBER 18****th**** – SEPTEMBER 21****st**** 1918**

I wanted to scream. I wanted nothing more than to scream, or at least be _able_ to scream. My vocal cords had broken when I'd been screaming for several hours straight. It had hurt, but it was nothing compared to the flames that were licking through my body—not on me, _through_ me—and it was the most agonizing feeling I'd ever had.

No, agonizing was the wrong word. Excruciating, perhaps...Those were the words I'd used for the pain I experienced with the fever, but they were the wrong words now. I couldn't find the right word to describe exactly how I felt, and the reason behind that must be because there isn't such a word.

My breathing was labored, and I was getting lightheaded from of the lack of oxygen that entered my brain.

I still couldn't comprehend what was happening.

When I'd seen Dr. Cullen's teeth, glistening wet and covered with my blood, I'd lost it. First, I thought it was all a dream the fever had conjured up in my mind, but that theory soon flew out the window. There was no way a pain so vivid like the one I was experiencing could be a dream. It felt like I'd been thrown onto an open fire.

My entire body was trembling with the tension that was in my muscles. I wanted to thrash, and scream, and just _do_ something to get the fire out of me, but I couldn't. I'd quickly realized that all of my tries were in vain.

I'd tried to plead with Dr. Cullen to kill me, but when you don't have a voice, it's hard to communicate with someone that you're afraid to look in the eyes.

I heard a small whisper in my ear and instinctively shifted away from it, but there was no one in the room but me. Dr. Cullen had left earlier when he realized that his presence made me uncomfortable.

I heard the whisper again, but this time I realized that it was in my head, and not in my ear. It reminded me of the sound of the wind as it blows past your ear. I didn't understand why I heard it, though.

The thoughts only captured my mind for a few seconds. The main part of it was still focused on the unbearable fire. Once again, I wished I was just able to scream, but my voice was still lost in my throat.

A hand, a hard and cold hand, was laid on my forehead, and I flinched away from it.

Dr. Cullen was the reason for this: the pain. I didn't know what he did, but he did something after he'd tasted my blood. He had somehow been able to pierce my skin with his teeth and inject something into the wound.

I had never been one to judge people for their lifestyles. They can be whatever they want, because it doesn't bother me. But this..._this_...was just sick. A doctor, who was supposed to heal people from their diseases and cure them from the sickness, enjoyed the taste of blood.

I had twisted it over in my head and tried to make some sense into it—logical sense—but nothing came up. Everything was just repulsive.

I ground my teeth together when a particularly painful flame licked at my shoulder. I was sure I would shatter them like glass, but I couldn't relax my jaw.

Dr. Cullen's hand was once again placed on my forehead, and I badly wanted to push it away from my face. I wanted to get away from him and from what he'd done to me.

I wanted to die!

That was all I could think of: death and how I would welcome it with open arms.

But as time wound on, I knew that I wouldn't get my wish granted.

**{=ALS=}**

It was a strange feeling when my body acquired strength instead of growing weaker by the flames.

I thought that I was slowly turning into ash, but I felt how my senses grew sharper—_a lot_ sharper.

I could hear everything. I could hear the rustle of the wind in the trees outside, the quick and light run of a squirrel on the ground. I could also hear the sound of a river far away.

All the sounds told me that Dr. Cullen had indeed brought me to the woods, probably so that no one would hear my screams.

I curled in on myself and buried my face in the pillow I had under my head. Occasionally, groans of pain would escape me. I didn't understand how, but my vocal cords had somehow healed and given me my voice back, but I refrained from screaming. I didn't want them to break again. Screaming didn't exactly help me cope with the pain either.

The whispers in my head had become clearer. Sometimes, I was able to identify words. I still didn't know what the whispers meant, but I figured I would find out with time, because that was what I'd gotten: more time. I didn't know how, but the flames had somehow rid me of the fever. I could feel it through the pain that the fever was no longer raging in my body. For all intents and purposes, I was cured.

I still had a hard time accepting Dr. Cullen close to me, though. He tried to make me more accustomed to his presence by simply sitting on the other side of the room, but he had, as time passed, moved closer.

At the moment, he was kneeling right beside the bed and was looking at me with a pained expression. I could see it clearly on his face that he hated to see me in pain, but I couldn't detect any regret.

Usually, he didn't say anything, but now he started to softly speak to me.

"I want you to know that I am truly sorry for causing you this pain." He wasn't lying. His face was, although still pained, open and honest.

The whispers became clearer, but they were more like static on a radio now. I couldn't hear every word. _"Hope...forgi...omeday."_

The tone of the whispers was familiar, almost like I'd heard the voice that uttered them before. However, Dr. Cullen hadn't been speaking, so I had no idea from where the whispers came.

I was breathing harshly through my nose, and I saw Dr. Cullen cringe when a painful cry tore from my chest.

"I know what you're going through, truly I do. I've undergone the same, and I can promise you that it will be over soon. Just a few more hours and it will be over."

I wanted to feel relief at his words, but all I could feel was dread. What would be over? My life? This pain? What was to come afterwards? What was it that I was undergoing?

"Do you want an explanation now, or later?"

I wasn't sure if I wanted the answers to my questions at the moment. I don't think I was ready to hear the truth. Something that created this kind of pain couldn't lead to anything good.

But still, I _wanted_ to know. My curiosity got the best of me.

"N-n-n-no-o—"

"Now?" he asked.

I nodded.

Dr. Cullen inhaled deeply as if to brace himself. "What I am, and what you are becoming, isn't of the human world."

I just stared at him. What could he possibly mean with that?

He sighed. "Edward, do you believe in supernatural creatures?"

What did that have to do with anything? I quickly shook my head. No, I believed in supernatural creatures just as much as I believed in urban legends; a belief which was non-existent.

"_He'll...elieve me...think...'m a...natic!" _I frowned. I was positive that voice had been Dr. Cullen's, but he hadn't said anything. I knew because I never took my eyes off of him.

"I'm afraid that you're going to have to become a believer because I am supernatural. I'm not human. You could say that I'm a creature of the night."

There was a beat of silence, and then Dr. Cullen locked his eyes with mine.

"Edward, I'm a vampire."

Silence.

His words hung heavily in the air. They pressed against my temples and threatened to choke me with the tension they brought into the room.

It couldn't be true. It _wasn't_ true because vampires did not exist.

They were a part of horror stories and nightmares, not the real world. Vampires had fangs and turned into bats. They slept in coffins during the day and resented everything religious, but most of all, they _didn't exist_.

However, it did not matter how much I tried to convince myself because my mind had already started to puzzle everything together.

It would explain how he'd been able to bite through my skin, but not why he hadn't drained me of blood. The unnatural strength I'd witnessed when he carried me made more sense.

But there were other things that did not fit the description of a vampire.

How could he move around during the day? He'd been at the hospital when Father was brought in and it had definitely been daylight outside. He did not have fangs, and it didn't explain why his eye color changed. He had barely left my side for the hours that we'd been in the house, so he had obviously not slept in a coffin.

My head was spinning.

The pain and the flames were not forgotten. They were in almost every thought I had, but I found myself being able to think of several things at the same time. My mind was racing with it.

I thought of Dr. Cullen's confession, my parents; Lewis and Evelyn, and my life: of what it had been, and what it would now become.

I had already put the pieces together. If Dr. Cullen was indeed a vampire, that could only mean one thing.

He'd bitten me. He was turning me into one of his kind: a soulless monster.

Was that why I was burning? Was it a test from the devil? To see if I was worthy, if I could pass through the flames of hell and still survive.

It was all so absurd.

I refused to believe it and shook my head at him. He was certifiably insane. He shouldn't be a doctor. He should be a patient, at an asylum.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

I didn't even answer that. That was quite obvious, wasn't it? Of course I didn't believe him.

Dr. Cullen sighed again. "I guess the only one that can prove my point is you. When the change is complete, you'll see for yourself that I'm telling the truth."

He rose from his kneeling position and left the room.

"_It will take time for him. Hopefully, he'll accept it easier when he can feel the changes in his body. I really hope I didn't make a mistake by changing him. He's so young."_

I don't think he intended for me to hear his mumblings, but I guess he didn't take my enhanced hearing into consideration.

**{=ALS=}**

I tried to will the fire out of me.

I clamped my eyes shut, held my breath and put all my concentration on getting the fire out, but of course it didn't do anything.

How much longer would I burn? Dr. Cullen had said that it would be over soon, but that was hours ago. At least I think it was hours ago. Time meant very little to me at the moment.

My heart was beating furiously in my chest. It was fighting against the flames, but I don't think it would win. If the flames did not consume me, I was sure I would die out of a heart attack.

I gasped when I suddenly felt the first change in my condition since it all started.

The fire retreated from my fingers and toes and left them with a sensation of coolness. The absence was such a great relief, but I didn't get a chance to relax because, while my hands and feet were now free from the flames, the heat around my heart rose in temperature. I couldn't even understand how that was possible.

I grabbed handfuls of the sheets under me in an attempt to control myself. I heard rather than felt it when the fabric was torn apart. I could hear how each thread snapped. I hadn't even made an effort. The fabric felt as delicate as silk paper underneath my hands.

"_Not much longer now,"_ I heard Dr. Cullen say to himself before he came back in the room. He watched me with an expectant glimmer in his strange golden eyes. I wondered if the eyes meant anything special.

My breathing picked up when my arms were freed from the heat. It felt so good, like sinking into a cool bath during a warm summer day.

I couldn't enjoy the relief, though. There was no relief since one discomfort was exchanged for another.

My torso rose and sank with my breathing as I tried to get as much oxygen into my body as possible. I was hoping that it would take my mind off my burning heart if I focused on my breathing. The attempt was in vain.

The fire left my head, but it lingered in my throat instead. I tried to swallow it down, but my throat was so dry, and I felt so _thirsty_.

My heart was in a frenzy and I tossed all over the bed and screamed out my pain. It was impossible to stay quiet now.

Dr. Cullen came forward, and I grabbed his shirt. "Make it stop! _Please_, just make it stop!"

He didn't even seem shocked when I grabbed him. He calmly pried my hand away from his shirt and held onto it. "It will be over soon. I promise. You'll only have to endure it for a couple more minutes."

His hand wasn't cold anymore. It was like taking anybody's hand. It felt normal.

The heat subsided, and I closed my eyes. My heart also began beating at a slower pace. It was soon so slow and faint that I could barely make out the sound.

It made me nervous. Wasn't I supposed to lose consciousness when my heart stopped beating? Wasn't that what was supposed to happen when you died?

Two more weak beats and it went silent.

There was not a sound in the room, not even the sound of breathing. Both Dr. Cullen and I were holding our breath. The sounds came from outside.

But I could feel the presence of someone else in the room. I could _smell_ it.

I inhaled deeply, hoping that it would calm me down, but it only distressed me further when no relief was tied to the action. It was only the lifeless rise and fall of my chest as my lungs expanded with the air.

Even though I knew it was over, I refused to open my eyes. I was too afraid of what I might see.

"_He should open his eyes now. The change is complete. His heart has stopped. So what's wrong? Did _I _do something wrong when I bit him?_

"Edward? Can you open your eyes?"

When he addressed me directly, I had to obey. When he said my name, it was like a father saying the name of his son. It felt like home, and I felt that I _wanted_ to listen to him.

I very slowly opened my eyes and took in my surroundings.

* * *

**A/N: **Human Edward is no more! Although I will miss that sweet, kind of innocent boy, it will be so much fun to build on to his character now that he will slowly become the Edward we all fell in love with at one point (You did too, so don't try to deny it!)

I can't say when the next chapter will be up, but I hope that it will be so much faster than this one :-)


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